Page 33 of Olivia’s Only Pretending (Sweet River #3)

Twenty-Three

V ictor walked me up the front porch steps with his hand on my lower back, warm and steady. The pull between us was weighty, heavy, like it could drag us under any second.

I toyed with the house keys in my hands, but neither of us seemed ready to end the night just yet.

“Thank you for letting me take you on a real date,” Victor said, his voice quiet. His eyes searched mine. He tucked a strand of my auburn hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed my skin and sent goose bumps down my neck.

I took a breath. “Thank you for tonight.” I curled my hands around his forearms. I still wore his leather jacket, the creak of it breaking the silence as I moved. “For sharing your spot by the creek with me.”

“It’s even better with you there,” he murmured, with his hands finding my waist.

I tugged him closer, the distance between us shrinking, our chests grazing.

I licked my lips. His eyes dropped to them, darkening in a way that made my heart flutter.

I was having trouble breathing, in a really fun way. He leaned in, resting his forehead on mine, letting out a low grumble—half desire, half restraint.

“You’re a pretty good date,” I said, pushing my forehead against his. This version of the two of us felt so easy, so sweet. I wanted to stand here on my front porch with him under the moonlight for as long as I could.

I rose on my tiptoes, snaking my arms around his neck.

“Am I allowed to hold you?” he asked roughly. “What do the rules say about that?”

“That’s very welcomed,” I whispered.

He slid his big hands around my waist, pressing my body into his, so close my feet lifted off the ground. With me up in his arms, he buried his face into my neck. My skin tingled against his hot breath.

I dragged my fingers through his jet-black hair, and he leaned into my touch. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat before opening again.

Both of us were breathless, nose to nose.

“We’re no good at not kissing,” I whispered, my lips a breath from his. My body and my heart begged for the space between us to disappear. To not miss this moment.

“Maybe that means we should be kissing?”

“I’m trying to be careful. To keep my heart out of the driver’s seat,” I said. Because that had been my rule of thumb since I was just a kid.

“I get that,” Victor said, his voice not pushy, but vulnerable. “But maybe our hearts know better than us?”

Our eyes locked.

And for a moment, I let go of the rules. I let go of the fear. And I trusted my heart.

I crashed into him, lips against lips, hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. His hands slid beneath the jacket, pressing me against him closer.

A kiss I’d find again in my dreams tonight.

Our breath was hot and uneven as we slowly pulled apart. My feet landed gently on the porch again, barely steady.

We stood there, eyes searching each other, searching for answers.

What do we do now? hung between us in the blinking porch light.

“Do I get another date?” His voice was a low rumble I could almost feel.

I looked down at my boots, biting my lip. “Can I think on it?” My heart was pounding in my ears. As much as I was a planner, I hadn’t planned on our date. I’d let impulse take over. And I definitely hadn’t planned for post-date.

It was spontaneous and out of my element.

Victor takes a step back. “Hmmm.”

I snuck a glance back up. “I’m not saying no. Tonight was just … a lot. It was big. I need to think on it.”

He shook his head. “Okay. You’ve got my number.” He walked down the porch steps.

I watched him go for a beat before letting myself inside my house. I rested my head against the door, burying my face in my hands. The leather of his jacket creaked. All I could smell was him .

What are my next steps here?

Someone knocked at my door.

I opened it up to Victor standing there, hands on the door frame, gaze anguished. “Why are we treading water?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are we treading water when we’re supposed to be together?” He sounded frustrated, nearly angry.

“How do you know we’re supposed to be together?” I crossed my arms, feeling emotional whiplash that we were even having this conversation. Last night, another kiss felt like a disaster I was intent on avoiding. “How can you be so sure?”

“Hasn’t it felt good to let our guards down a little? To finally act on our feelings? To stop pretending there’s not something more here.” Victor took a step closer to me. His arms were on either side of me on the doorframe. I could wrap my arms around his waist.

“But this isn’t reality, Victor,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “These past few weeks, we’ve been living in a fantasy. That isn’t the nitty gritty of a relationship. We haven’t had to deal with the hard stuff—the real stuff. We have to think about what the real us looks like.”

“Why can’t this be reality?” he said, his eyes ablaze. “We decide our reality. I choose this. I choose you . I want you to be my reality. I want you to be my whole world.”

I shook my head. “Reality is how different we are. I have this demanding job, and I’ve had my heart broken too many times to let it happen again. And you … you’re still figuring life out. You’ve never even been in a serious relationship?—"

“ I’m serious about you. Our relationship is serious to me.

” His voice was sharp but hurting. “Living in a fantasy? None of it was fake for me. Nothing I said, nothing I did. Every word, every look, every touch has been agonizingly, torturously real for me.” He exhaled, his arms dropping.

“Sure, maybe it started for your coworkers, but for me … I just wanted a reason to finally call you mine. To finally pull you close.”

My heart was throbbing in my chest. Tears stung my eyes. “It felt real for me, too. I didn’t have to act at all,” I admitted, pausing for a moment. “But …”

He stepped closer to me. “But you’re afraid of me,” he whispered. He swallowed. “Afraid I’m too much of a hot young buck?”

I snickered despite myself, shaking my head. Leave it to Victor to make me laugh in the middle of this emotional conversation.

He placed his hands around my face, lifting my chin toward him. “You don’t have to be afraid, though. I’m in this for real, Liv.”

“Victor, you just matter so much to me, and our relationship, I want to handle it delicately.” I took a shaky breath. “I can’t let us break it. I want to handle it with care. I’m sorry. I need us to press pause. To think it through. It’s just how my brain works.” How my heart works.

“I like you and your brain. If you need me to go through the Olivia system of checks and balances, I’ll do it. But I’ll ace it and then finally get to call you mine for real .” He kissed my forehead.

“So, we can press pause?”

He nodded. “We can do whatever you need, Olivia. I’ll give you some space.”

I stood in the doorway, watching as he turned and took a few steps across my veranda. The porch light was a spotlight on him. He stopped for a second, standing still, his hand on his chest, and turned to look at me. He opened his mouth to say something.

I stood up taller, intent. I wanted to hear whatever he might say.

Then, he shook his head, never mind. He continued down my porch steps.

He left me standing in the doorway, watching as he drove off in his truck.

I sat in my doorway, my back against the door, knees to my chest, cheeks wet. How’d I go from a preliminary first real date with Victor to crying in my doorway, terrified we might make a mistake? And why, when my heart said grab him, pull him in closer, did my mouth ask for space?